Fix You
by casfics
Summary: After a long shift in a new role, Ethan seeks solace in solitude on the balcony of the ED. Someone unexpected turns up, choosing a chilly conversation outside over the annual department Christmas do. (One-shot, my take on the trailer)


Ethan heard her before he saw her.

That was no good. He wanted, more than anything, to be alone. Especially after the shift from hell, as Dylan had rather appropriately dubbed it.

Heels scraped against the metal steps, drawing closer and closer. Dark, darker than dark. Poor lit too. Still, the heavy breathing grew louder until he sensed its owner by his side.

'No booze or men for a year, I heard.' He said lightly.

'Mm, well. Best laid plans and all, don't result in you getting laid.'

He gave a chuckle before dropping his eyes to the floor. 'And there's me. All the people that love me just leave. Leave or... or _die_.' He muttered darkly, looking out over the car park.

'What does that make me, spectre in stilettos?'

He set his eyes on her then, forehead crinkling with confusion. Either having seen his expression, or imagining it from the silence, Alicia was quick to apologise.

'I'm sorry. Insensitive of me.' She paused for a moment. 'It is weird without Mrs Beauchamp, but you did her proud today. Mr Clincal Lead.'

'Love, after all this time?'

It was her turn to squirm. Her cheeks gained a pink hue, colour more noticeable against the fair curls that hung around her shoulders. She'd not made a huge effort, simply just taken her hair out of the braid and changed from scrubs to casual. It was the Christmas gathering at the Hope and Anchor, and both knew that was where she should have been. Declaring her love on a rooftop certainly wasn't what either had imagined.

'Yeah,' She replied softly. 'Yeah, love.'

'But - you were determined we couldn't stay together while Scott was still-'

'That doesn't mean I _ever_ stopped loving you.'

'I thought you detached. It's been months.' He said limply.

'It's not that easy, you know.'

'You say that like I have no idea whatsoever.' He said.

'You're acting like you don't.' She whispered.

He gave a short shake of the head, perhaps impatient, perhaps frustrated.

She swallowed, taking a tentative couple of steps in his direction and outstretching her fingers.

He linked them with his without a word, and they watched vehicles drive in and out below. They looked tiny, smaller than children's toys, and every bit as colourful. The faint buzz of traffic was weirdly comforting; people were on their way home. Going back to safety from wherever they'd been.

After a short while, she lolled her head on his shoulder.

'Eth..' She begun, slowly and in a manner almost childlike.

'What?'

'All the lights look so pretty,' She gestured with her free hand across the city. 'I wish we had decorations all year round.'

'You do?' He asked, pulling a face. 'But then they wouldn't be special.'

They both shifted so they could lean over the balcony some more, in turn huddling closer together. The wind blew, harsh and biting, but this was overlooked in favour of the the visual array of beauty the city displayed. The people were nearly all cleared from the ground below, leaving them in a bubble elevated from it all. All the chaos, all the "normal".

'I think they would be just as appreciated,' Alicia said finally. 'If not a little more. I mean, apply the principle to people. You don't get sick of them after a while, do you?'

'Largely depends on the person.' Ethan replied, though the corners of his lips were twitching.

'You should be radiating benevolence as a medic! Fine though, I get your point. Think of the lights as me.'

'Ha! In a tangle, in the attic?'

'What I'm trying to say quite badly is, things don't have to be brought out once in a while to be appreciated. You can look at something and like it all year long. Time doesn't have to wear happiness out.'

'Interesting stance.' He mumbled. 'Also, I knew what you were trying to say all along.'

'Why did you make me explain then?'

'It was a little bit cute.' He admitted.

She blushed a little. 'Strange man.'

Their fingers squeezed tighter. Both silently observed how quiet it had become, almost as if the world was hushed. No wind or rain, even though it had been forecast. Not even a breeze. Everything still.

'What keeps you from the party? Surprised to spot you up here.' She said.

'I don't do parties well.' He answered, staring straight ahead. 'You should go, though.'

Alicia wrinkled her nose. 'And leave you up here?'

'I'm not good conversation lost in thought, I might as well be here alone.'

'Uh, not again.' She shook her head, a weak smile appearing. 'Because not everyone leaves. Even when things get hard. You'll regret making me feel sorry for you after you can't shake me off.'

He laughed lightly, turning to her then with regret etched into his expression.

'I wish we'd worked, Alicia.'

And he did. His body language made his words carry weight, even to a stranger. He was saturated with guilt and what-ifs. It wasn't a lie at all. It was a pointless statement to make. Even if she reciprocated, it would leave them vulnerable to breaking again. The last wounds had only just healed. Digging his heart out of his chest and handing it to her, bloody and beating, was a huge ask of himself. She stood before him silently, something in her eyes - raw hope. He wasn't sure how long she'd wait. The decision was his.

Hesitantly, curiously, his lips brushed against hers. She leaned forward too, to give as well as to receive. The warmth was striking against the cold night air, as was the hands that found their way to the back of necks. It was like stepping out of uncomfortable shoes that only served to create blisters and sores, while sliding your tatty slippers on in their place. He kissed her, she kissed him, the borders between each body fading as their mouths united. If souls could dance, even for a second, it was that. It was immeasurable and it was welcome.

'I'll stay. I'll fix you.' She whispered, outstretching a pinky finger.

He linked his with hers, voice wobbling as he spoke. 'I know you will.'

'I always would have done.'


End file.
